I.
cold knees.
my thoughts got tangled on your fingertips.
i've been tucking you in the dark creases of my mind.
II.
i'm stuck gazing upon you,
or at least what is left of you. at least.
III.
every sigh you breathe out joins the cold air.
IV.
your eyes holds an ocean of regrets.
your war cry is music to me.
V.
my love for your is a logical fallacy.
and I
put the "art" in breaking hearts.
knotting heartstrings into pretty bows:
bows for the locks of my hair
but possibly also for arrows.
VI.
be the cure that is contagious.
i think my sickness
is just over-diagnosing myself.